My bad, Chilluns

Oh damn. I overslept today and missed a class. I blame it partly on my cell phone not getting signal and losing track of time and not having a proper alarm clock. So everyone's all "Where were ya Kev?" "Get enough sleep, Kev?" Oh well. Good third day.

Don't Talk Politics

With anyone you just meet - this is no new lesson. Especially 17 year olds who say "I don't hate black people, but I hate lazy people" or "liberals love the media cos' it's biased -- except Fox News." Even "they hate our freedom."

There's mediation and then there's just embracing an impossible situation. But I love y'all still.

Flaunting It

I'm teaching three classes a day to three different groups: the Normans, the Celts and the Vikings. They're named after the early inhabitants of Ireland just around the time of the arrival of monotheism and shoes. They're a pretty good bunch of kids. One kid asked if I'd prefer teaching in the suburbs instead of Brooklyn. I laughed and said I liked teaching in the hood, but I kinda love getting relevant responses and answers with some insight. Is that where I gotta go to get this? Is that why so many NYC teachers flee to the burbs? Better pay and correct answers?

I led a discussion on the Ancient Order of Hibernians excluding the ILGO from marching in the St. Patrick's Day parade. The kids responded mostly that St. Patrick's is mostly a secular holiday nowadays and that they should therefore be allowed to march. One student said that they shouldn't be allowed to be in the parade because a banner would be "flaunting" their sexuality. The other kids countered that a banner with the word "gay" on it is no more flaunting it than one held by firefighters that read "Irish Batallion 4545" or whatever. Bright.

We discussed Irish-American identity and every class referred to St. Patrick's Day as "an excuse to drink green beer." And I'm like, "Are you kids reading my blog?!" Nah, they still don't know about it and I don't know if I'm going to tell them. Maybe afterwards, but not right now.

We then talked about how St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, which is the metaphor for bringing the shoeless polytheists to Catholics. But he did something pretty interesting: he allowed them to keep some symbols of their ol' heathen ways. Note the Celtic Cross:



We agreed that it was tacky to get this as a tattoo, but thought it was cool that the circle in the middle represents the sun god.

The Irish still eat Weetabix for brekkers:



And they call breakfast "brekkers." The Irish is crazy!!! The diet is mainly carbohydrates for brekkers, more carbs and fatty meat for lunch, then a similar dinner. No corned beef and cabbage to be found anywhere. One of the students told me that that was the food provided on the emigrant "Coffin Ships." Thanks, student.

I also picked up one of these here rolling piano:



A mere 20 Euros (no Euro key here - just $$$). There's also a BBQ and DJ here tonight to celebrate the 4th of July. I've had R. Kelly's "I'm a Flirt" in my head all day, so hopefully the bloke spinning the records can help me out.

Day a haon

I took a position as a teacher with the Irish American Cultural Institute for the month of July. I'll be teaching high school students from the US at a few different places around this lovely Island: Waterford, Dublin and Galway. The pay ain't that great, but I get a free flight to Ireland, an apartment (well, it has a shared bathroom) and all my meals included. Ain't so bad. But I do have to teach 4 hours a day and I'm kinda making it up as I go along. Why did they hire such a hack?

We arrived at Dublin airport at 9:40 a.m. today, 3/7/07 (D/M/Y). No real hassle through customs, but there was an issue of some students with missing luggage, cash and cameras. One kid from California grabbed the wrong, albeit identical, bag at the airport, but the bag he picked up belongs to a woman named Rose from Puerto Rico. We might figure it out.

We hopped on a bus from Dublin to a little place called Glendalough in County Wicklow. Glendalough is the site of an old monestary founded by a saint named Kevin and it has a pretty wonderful graveyard. Pics will be forthcoming. There was one tombstone for two brothers: One died in 1921 at age 19 and the other in 1988 at age
86. Together at last. Missed you, bro!

Then we stopped for lunch when the most pleasant experience happen: A girl with a peanut allergy had to be rushed to the hospital because Irish yoghurt "May contain traces of peanut." She pricked herself twice with her EpiPin, but complained that her throat felt like it was closing. And it was, so she's staying at the hospital overnight. What a good start!

Tomorrow I'm planning a lesson on Irish-American identity issues. I'm kind of torn with my feelings on Irish Americans. I've never had a postive view of cops, I think binge drinking is sad and pathetic and I just hate pub crowds in the states. We're going to discuss reasons why and how people celebrate St. Patrick's Day. People celebrate their Irish roots or the Irish roots of others by getting totally fucked on cheap booze and green beer. After we resolve that it's a celebration of Irish culture, we'll talk about why gay and lesbian Irish Americans are excluded from the Parade every year.

The Ancient Order of Hiberians, the group that runs the parade, justifies the exclusion by arguing that St. Patrick's Day is a religious holiday. The Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization thinks that it's simply a celebration of Irish culture? Who is right in this?

So I'm off to have my first whisky in Ireland so far. Let me know where you is.